


One of the Better Ones

by LadyWallace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Caring Sam, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, It's Sam's Birthday, Light Angst, Pre-Series, Stanford Era (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 14:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18692995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: Sam gets a call from Dean on his birthday, but Sam's the one who ends up taking care of Dean. Pre-series Sam at Stanford. Hurt Dean, lots of brotherly moments.





	One of the Better Ones

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FF.net

Dean stumbled into the motel room and dropped his bag haphazardly onto the floor before crashing into the bed with a moan. He didn't want to get up, but knew he had to try, he had to get his wound cleaned up; the werewolf he had killed last night had managed to catch him. He hadn't seen to it before now, because he had to get to Palo Alto today and he had driven all night to do so.

He didn't really know why, he wasn't going to actually go see Sam, and, yeah, maybe planning on creeping around the college grounds was a little too stalkerish, but it was his little brother's birthday, and he at least wanted to make sure he was doing all right. He did plan on calling him.

He finally drug himself up from the bed and headed toward the dimly lit bathroom, shrugging out of his jacket and shirts, wincing as he pulled the t-shirt off, and then turned around in the mirror to see the damage done. He swallowed hard as he saw the four long claw marks that ran from the middle of his back just below the shoulder blades to his left hip. They were deep and a couple looked like they might need stitching, and he knew he couldn't do that himself. He'd just have to patch himself up and hope for the best.

He washed his wounds as well as he could in the shower, and then dabbed them with a towel before covering them with gauze and wrapping a bandage tightly around his torso. By the time he was done, he was panting from the effort and pain it had caused him, leaning against the sink. He made the mistake of glancing up at his face, finding it pale, his freckles standing stark on his cheeks and dark shadows under his eyes from the lack of sleep. He kicked his torn and bloody clothes into a corner of the bathroom and went back out to the main room, grabbing a clean t-shirt and sweat pants, and a bottle of pain pills.

He slumped on the bed, uncomfortably on his side, as he pulled his phone out and went through the contact list until it rested on the one he wanted. He took a deep breath and almost put the phone away, nervous at the reaction he would receive, but he steeled himself again and dialed the number.

He breathed in deeply as he listened to it ringing and then finally the familiar voice on the other end that sent an ache through his chest.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, unable to help smiling. "Happy birthday."

~~~~~~~

_Sam had been trying to convince_ Jessica that he didn't need a party, but she had insisted that they at least have some of their friends over for drinks and cake so he finally consented, hating that she had forced him into telling her his birthday. It wasn't that he didn't want Jess to know, it's just he didn't want anyone making a big deal about it. He hadn't had many good memories of past birthdays, apart from a couple where he knew Dean had done his best, but for the most part, they hadn't had much of a chance to celebrate them, his or Dean's.

They were just setting up for the guests, when Sam's phone rang. Jess grabbed it from the table, and playfully held it away from him.

"If this is business, you need to put it on hold," she told him with a cheeky smile.

Sam smiled back, holding his hand out. "Come on, Jess, it's probably just one of the guests. Let me have it."

"Well, all right but don't take too long, we've still got a lot to do!" Jessica handed him the phone and he answered it without looking at the caller id. "Hello?"

" _Hey, Sammy. Happy birthday!"_

Sam was surprised at the voice that came over the line, he walked over to the window, away from where Jess was in the kitchen so he could have a more private conversation. "Dean?" he asked hesitantly, wondering if he might have been mistaken.

_"Yeah, who else, little brother?"_ It didn't take Sam long to tell that Dean's voice was forcefully happy. He sounded exhausted, strained. A frown wrinkled Sam's brow.

"Are you okay?"

" _'Course, I'm okay, why wouldn't I be?_ " Dean demanded, but Sam knew he was lying. " _I just called to wish you happy birthday. You're twenty-one this year. I-I should be taking you out for a drink."_

Sam smirked at that, though a pang went through him, hearing the regret in Dean's voice. He tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, like you haven't already done that before, but thanks. It's—it's good to hear from you."

There was silence on the other end for too long and when Dean finally spoke again, Sam heard even more strain in his voice. " _It's good to hear from you too, Sammy."_

Sam ignored the nickname and, having a slight suspicion, asked, "Where are you?"

" _Oh, you know, around. Just finished a hunt."_

"Are you in town?" Sam asked knowingly.

There was a pause then a half-hearted, " _No."_

Sam wasn't buying that. "Look, man, if you're here, I'd…I'd like to…"

" _Sammy, I have to go. Good talking to you. Happy birthday, and don't go crazy. Be responsible."_ The call ended and Sam stared down at the phone, a sadness welling up inside him. He tried to pretend that he didn't care about his family at all, but the truth was that he missed Dean, and even their dad sometimes, and he wished to see them. If Dean was in town, and Sam knew him well enough to figure that was the likeliest truth, he was going to find him, whether Dean liked it or not. It was his birthday after all, he should get to do what he wanted. Sam smiled at that, realizing he sounded like a child and thinking of how Dean would chide him for it. Besides, Dean sounded like something was wrong, and if he was in trouble, all the more reason for Sam to find him. He was family after all.

Jess came into the room. "Who was that, Sam?"

"It was…my brother," Sam told her hesitantly. "Um…he's in town. I think I'm gonna go meet up with him."

"Oh, Sam, the party!" Jess said in protest.

"I'll be back before tonight," he assured her with a smile. "Don't worry. I'm just gonna go and see Dean for a while and then I'll come back here."

She sighed but shook her head. "All right, fine, but see if you can bring him back here; I want to meet this brother of yours."

Sam chuckled, reddening at the thought of introducing his brother to his girlfriend. He wasn't sure he was quite ready for that yet. "I'll do my best. See you later." He gave her a quick kiss before he left, borrowing Jess's car keys.

It might have been a couple years since he had seen Dean, but he knew him better than anyone else in the world, and he had a feeling he knew exactly where to find him, or at least where to start. He would be staying in a grungy motel somewhere, and all he had to do was find one that had a black Impala parked outside of it.

It took him a surprisingly short time to find the place he sought and he smiled to himself at his luck as he pulled into the motel and went up to the door that the Impala was parked in front of. Only then did he hesitate, wondering why Dean hadn't wanted to see him, realizing for the first time that it might be hard for himself to see his older brother again after pretty much leaving him without a backward glance for Stanford. They had talked on the phone since then, but he hadn't been face to face with his brother since he walked out the door and his dad told him never to come back.

But he really did want to see Dean again, seeing the Impala there had already brought back so many memories, and not all bad, and he knew he would never forgive himself if he left now like a coward. If something was wrong with Dean, especially if it was between the two of them, he was going to get to the bottom of it before the day was out. He swallowed hard, and hesitated only a minute before he raised a fist to knock on the door.

It was a long moment before he heard locks turning and the door opening. It opened a crack, and Sam knew there was a gun as well as his older brother on the other side.

"Hi, Dean," he said simply, forcing a wavering smile. The sight of his brother, alive and well, already putting his mind at ease.

The door was flung wide and he met his brother's surprised and maybe slightly angry gaze. "Sammy? What—how did you…?"

"Come on, Dean, I haven't gone that soft; I still know how to find people and you're not a hard person to find with that hunk of metal acting like a beacon."

Dean's face turned indignant at the slur to his baby, and Sam smiled even broader, so glad that things had not changed. "You gonna let me in?"

Dean looked at him for a second then stepped backwards to let Sam into the room. That was when he stumbled and Sam instinctively reached forward to grab his arms, steadying him.

"Dean?" he asked, worry suddenly knotting his stomach, as he took in, for the first time, Dean's pale face—apart from the red marks across his cheekbones that told of a possible fever—and the way he held himself stiffly as if movement hurt him.

Dean tried to shove his younger brother away. "I'm fine, Sam."

"No, you're not," Sam said, gripping his shoulder instead. "Dean what's wrong?"

"I told you, I'm fine, why don't you go back to your college friends and have a good birthday. You don't need to be here with your big brother who you obviously don't care to see."

"Dean!" Sam cried in shock, partly from the sting of Dean's words, wondering what had caused the sudden outburst, and partly because Dean shoved away from him and nearly collapsed onto the floor, grabbing onto the small table near the window. Sam was at his side in an instant, a hand on his back to steady him, but Dean flinched and jerked away from him. Sam looked at his now sticky hand and saw redness there.

"Dude, you are not fine," he said blandly and crouched to where Dean as now slumped under the window, breathing hard.

Dean glared at him. "Just give me a minute. I'm tired."

"You're _bleeding_ ," Sam ground out. "Man, I know you're stubborn, but you never used to be _this_ stupid. I know you can't reach that wound back there, so you couldn't have taken care of it properly. Seriously Dean, you came all the way here and you didn't even think of asking me for help?"

"No, Sam," Dean ground out. "I didn't want to bother you. Not when you made it clear you didn't want to be a part of the family anymore."

"How could you think that?" Sam demanded, getting angry himself now. "Dean, I wasn't the one who decided never to come back. Dad was the one who kicked me out. I just wanted to go to college. You could have come by any time and you didn't. And if you think I wouldn't help my brother when he's hurt and practically on my doorstep, then you must not know me at all."

Dean hung his head, exhaustion obviously taking over. "Sam I'm—I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just, I didn't want to ruin your birthday. I figured you'd rather be with your friends."

Sam sighed and forced a small smile. "At the moment, I would rather help my brother. So come on, get up. I want to take a look at you."

Dean reluctantly allowed Sam to help him to his feet and when Sam carefully led him over to the bed, he realized how hot Dean's skin felt against him.

"Dude, you have a fever," he said as he lowered Dean to the mattress. "I hope the wound hasn't gone septic."

Dean grunted as Sam quickly went to the bathroom and grabbed towels and wet clothes. He came back to find Dean bracing himself into a straight position even though he looked like he would rather fall over. His back was obviously paining him. Sam felt a rush of sympathy flow through him. All those years he and Dean had patched each other up, and while he hadn't missed it—he had never enjoyed having to clean his brother's wounds—he had missed them being together, and he hadn't realized it until that moment when he saw Dean suffering silently as usual, afraid to ruin his birthday. Sam shook his head fondly. His brother was an idiot sometimes, but that had never changed, and he loved him anyway despite it all.

Dean startled slightly as Sam came back in and put the towels down on the bed, crouching to rifle through Dean's duffle bag to find the first aid kit, seeing it already open and spilling everywhere.

"Why don't you lay down, man," Sam suggested, seeing Dean about ready to fall over.

Dean didn't protest and hissed as he maneuvered himself onto his stomach and clutched one of the pillows under his head. That was worrisome enough to his younger brother. Dean only didn't protest when he was either really in bad shape or knew he had no other options. Sam grabbed the hem of Dean's black t-shirt and pulled it upward, hissing in sympathy as he saw the haphazard bandage job that had done little to stop the flow of blood from the wounds.

"You're gonna have to help me get your shirt off," Sam told his brother gently and Dean grunted but rolled onto his side and maneuvered his arms so Sam could help him pull the shirt off. He settled back on his stomach as Sam gently peeled the bandages away from the wound, noticing Dean tensing as they caught on the tender flesh, the blood having dried and stuck them to his skin.

Sam grimaced as he peeled the last of them away, seeing the four long gashes, red and puffy around the edges telling of infection setting in. "What was it?" Sam asked.

"Werewolf," Dean muttered into the pillow, his muscles clenching in pain as the cool air hit his fevered skin. "You gonna play Florence Nightingale or have you forgotten how?"

"I think I can manage, it's not like I didn't do it enough," Sam told him, slightly indignant. He was actually rather surprised that it didn't phase him, even after all this time. He had been a little worried he might have gone soft at Stanford, but he simply reverted back to the old days when this had been a normal occurrence, and he looked through the first aid kit for what he needed.

He found the bottle of alcohol and wet one of the washcloths with it. "This will hurt," he warned and pressed it to the wounds. Dean's back arched and he let out a muffled groan, his grip on the pillow tightening, but he stayed still as Sam cleaned out the wounds as thoroughly a possible, hoping it would help with whatever infection might be setting in. He figured blood loss was another factor into Dean's current condition.

"Gonna need stitches," Dean grunted to him.

Sam assessed the wounds and knew he was right. "Yeah, a couple of them do. You ready?"

"Get it over with," Dean grunted again and settled in for the painful procedure.

Sam found the suture kit and cleaned the needle and thread in the alcohol before taking a steadying breath and slipping the needle through Dean's reddened skin.

Dean tensed and hissed, but stayed still. After a few stitches, he turned his head to one side so it wasn't pressed in the pillow. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly.

"For what?" Sam asked as he tied off another stitch.

Dean chuckled blandly. "Well, this can't have been your first idea of fun on your birthday."

Sam smiled and moved to the next suture. "Yeah, well, we never had really great birthdays did we?"

"Not really," Dean admitted. "Remember the one we spent in the hospital after Dad nearly got gutted by that rugaru? You were thirteen that year, right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, shuddering slightly as he remembered that, but also remembered Dean buying him a candy bar from the bending machine and apologizing that he didn't have any candles. "And then the year when I turned fifteen and we were stuck in the motel room and dad had promised to come back by my birthday, but he didn't."

"Yeah," Dean agreed with a soft sigh that turned into a gasp as Sam slipped the needle into his skin again.

"That happened a lot," Sam commented. "But," he added with a small smile, "You went to the convenience store down the street and got Ding-Dongs and candles and a couple crappy paperbacks for me to read and we still had a birthday. You always tried your best, Dean."

"I guess," Dean said. "I just always wanted you to be happy. I guess this isn't one of those years."

Sam chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. Putting sutures in your back isn't the worst birthday I've had." He was rewarded by Dean's mouth turning up in a half smile, his eyes slitting open for a moment. "I did come by, Sam," he said softly after a long pause.

Sam frowned, but Dean continued in explanation. "I did come by the collage on more than one occasion when I was close and had time to swing by. I saw you going to classes, and laughing with friends, and you looked happy. And I was glad."

Sam stopped his work and bent to meet Dean's eyes for a moment. "Why didn't you let me know?"

Dean shifted slightly, uncomfortable. "You looked like you belonged, and you were happy; so much happier than I had ever seen you, and I didn't want to come in and ruin that. You were…free, and I knew I couldn't take that away from you. I thought I might bring bad memories so I decided to keep my distance."

Sam slid to his knees and reached up to grip Dean's shoulder, his throat aching. "You were never the bad memories, Dean," he said softly. "And I love collage, but…I missed you."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, God, please no chick flick moments. You have gone so soft, Sammy." But he looked pleased all the same. "Come on, that's enough sensitivity for the day. Finish those stitches, I'm waiting. Bitch."

Sam smiled genuinely, even as he fought the moisture from his eyes. "Jerk," he said, and saw Dean's smile widen to a grin.

He finished the sutures and spread antiseptic cream over the wounds before laying gauze gently down and taping it to hold it in place. Dean breathed a sigh of relief when it was done, and allowed Sam to help him roll over and prop himself up against the pillows, which together, were almost soft enough to cushion his wounds.

"Better?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Sammy."

Sam gave him a smile. "It's Sam."

"Still on that one, are you?"

Sam smirked as he bent to clean up the first aid things. Dean nudged his arm with his foot. "You better get back to your friends."

Sam straightened. "Nope, I'm staying with you."

"Sam," Dean said warningly, but he was clearly exhausted, as he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Let me go clean up," Sam told him and headed to the bathroom.

Dean dozed as Sam washed up his hands and threw the bloody towels and Dean's clothes into the bathtub to wash out with a little peroxide. He then checked to see if Dean was sleeping, and pulled out his phone, dialing Jess' number and told her he was probably not going to make it to the party after all. Jess was upset at first, but once Sam managed to convince her that he was taking care of a sick brother and not running off to go crazy without her, she conceded and decided they could have their party the next night.

Sam went out to the main room and saw Dean's eyes slit open, watching him.

"You had plans," he said softly. "Don't let me keep you. I'll be fine."

Sam shrugged. "I know you could take care of yourself, but I don't want you to have to this time. I want to stay here."

"Sammy…go play with your little college friends, they're gonna be a hell of a lot more fun than I am."

Sam smirked. "Yeah, too much fun. I didn't want a party anyway. It's my birthday, Dean. I want to spend it with my brother. I haven't seen you in a long time."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever you want, birthday boy, but I'm not sitting here with holes in my back and no booze. Take my wallet and go buy whatever you want, just don't forget a six-pack. It's on me."

"You mean it's on the guy you hustled at pool," Sam retorted, grabbing Dean's wallet from his discarded jeans.

"Hey, I earned that money fair and square."

"Sure, Dean, whatever lets you sleep at night."

"I didn't miss this."

"Too bad, there's a lot more where that came from."

Sam smirked and turned to go out the door, missing Dean's fond smile that he only showed when the door closed behind his little brother.

Sam came back with a carrot cake and a six-pack and he sat on the bed with Dean for the rest of the afternoon and late into the night and talked about everything he could think of, about his life at Stanford, his friends…Jess. All the funny stories he could think of that he knew Dean would love, and on more than one occasion he had to help Dean sit back up after he had been reduced to pained tears from laughing so hard. It felt so good to just enjoy his time with his brother again, like in the old days. Maybe even better than the old days. He just realized how much he had missed Dean and it hurt him that he hadn't tried to get together again before then.

"You know that Dad misses you just as much as I do, right?" Dean said after a long time, when they had quieted down, and it was long past midnight.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "I miss him too."

"Maybe some day we'll both stop by," Dean told him. "He might come if I drag him. You two are so stubborn, I might have to bring him in the trunk of my car, but I know he'd be happy to see you again."

Sam smiled, but it was a sad one. He knew he hadn't parted on good terms with his dad, but he didn't really know how to make it up either. "I'd like that," he said instead and that seemed to please Dean.

They talked some more and then finally, Sam yawned and knew that Dean was fading too, and he really should have made sure he got to sleep earlier even if the medicine he had taken had helped his fever.

"I don't know about you, but I'm shot," Sam told him.

"You leaving?" Dean asked, and Sam could hear the disappointment in his voice.

Sam chuckled and motioned to the empty beer bottles on the bedside table. "I don't think you'd let me drive."

Dean relaxed with a laugh. "Well there's only the one bed. It will be just like when we were kids. And no stealing the blankets."

"I never stole the blankets," Sam told him indignantly as he picked up their paper plates and kicked his shoes off. "That was you."

"You only though that because I was forced to yank them away from you."

Sam scoffed as he helped Dean pull down the covers and grabbed a pillow. "Whatever. Just don't kick me."

They settled down, Dean taking a while to find a comfortable position with his wounds, but finally started to drift off, but he had one more thing to say.

"Hey Sammy," he whispered tiredly.

"Yeah?" came Sam's equally tired voice.

"I'm glad you came."

Sam smiled, and closed his eyes, falling asleep, lulled by the sound of his big brother's even breathing, a sound more soothing to him than any lullaby.

~~~~~~~

_In the morning, Sam got up early,_ glad it was the weekend so that he wouldn't have to get to classes. It was hard to leave Dean and he made a breakfast run first so they could have a bit of extra time, but it was obvious that he was going to have to leave soon, and he was surprised by the ache that it gave him. One even more painful than what he had left for Stanford with.

"You gonna be in town for a couple more days?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean shook his head. "No, I'll probably leave tomorrow. I'm going to go up to Bobby's. See if he's got anything new."

Sam looked down at his feet, suddenly awkward. "It was good to see you again, Dean."

"It was good to see you too, Sammy," Dean told him with a smile.

"Sam," the younger brother corrected fondly.

"Whatever, just come here, kiddo," Dean said and reached forward to fold Sam in a hug. The younger Winchester was surprised, but hugged Dean back gently, careful of his wounds. Dean held him for a long moment, before he pushed him back to arm's length and smiled at him.

"Let's not make it so long this time," he said.

"Agreed," Sam told him.

"And I want to meet this girlfriend of yours."

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Next time."

"See you round, Sammy," Dean told him gently and this time Sam didn't correct him.

"See you round, Dean."

Walking out that door was one of the hardest things he'd done since leaving for Stanford. But this time, he knew that he wasn't running away from Dean. They were just going their separate ways for a while, and that comforted him. As much as he wanted to deny it, the thought of his big brother being around, still made him feel safer than the alternative.

He smiled at the Impala as he left the room and ran a hand over her sleek hood. Maybe after Stanford he could get Dean to settle down too, get away from hunting, start a family.

He looked back over his shoulder when he heard a tapping and saw Dean looking out the window. Sam rolled his eyes but waved to him as he reached into his pocket for the keys and realized they weren't there. Dean smirked and held up a pair for him to see.

Sam sighed and went back to the room as Dean opened the door.

"Can't go anywhere without these, college boy," Dean told him.

"Thanks," Sam replied. "I really have to go though. Thanks for being here for my birthday, Dean."

Dean smiled. "Was it a good one?"

"One of the better ones," Sam nodded.

Dean pretended indignation. "Well, I guess I'll just have to get torn up every year."

Sam chuckled and clasped Dean's hand one last time. "Really though, thanks for being here."

"Anytime, Sammy. You know you only have to call."

"You too," Sam told him sincerely. "If you ever need anything, just let me know."

He had to tear himself away or he was afraid he would never leave. He watched Dean standing there as he drove away. He sighed and wondered how long it would be before he would see his brother again.


End file.
